Old Blood and A New Legend
by The Archaon
Summary: In a world ravaged by the fires of nuclear radiation, the Wastes forge Heroes. The Chosen One, the Lone Wanderer, the Courier, people of incredible power and ability, people who can influence entire countries with words alone. But before them all came the original, The Vault Dweller. A legend in the wastes, the aged survivor now has a new goal, and a new Legend to help arise.
1. Prologue

Old Blood and A New Legend: Prologue

The Vault Dweller had been many things. Was many things. He was a legend, his name had spread across the western coast of what remained of the United States, his moniker having spread even farther inland. He was a hero, a man who put others before himself and who had saved not only his own people, but all those of the wastes from the Super Mutant threat that was posed by the Master's Army. He was a survivor, a man capable of adapting to the hell the wastes were for most, and of overcoming the challenges thrown at him.

Above all else though, the Vault Dweller was old. He had been through much in his journey, first having to replace a water chip for his home vault, then having to defeat the threat of the Super Mutants, and then having to find a reason for living after being exiled from the home he worked so hard to save. In that time, he had changed. He had changed mentally, emotionally, but those were changes not easily seen. No, the most apparent changes were the physical. The Vault Dweller, at the end of his quest, was a nigh unkillable god of a man, able to defeat entire armies with but the wave of a hand; as he aged, his strength did not lessen.

Indeed, the Vault Dweller had become something more than human. From the combination of cybernetics, mutations, sicknesses, and other odd occurrences that happened to benefit him, the Vault Dweller became effectively immortal. He did not know this at first, of course; rather he just thought himself to be extremely lucky in his survival. It was after the death of his wife and his leaving Arroyo that he realized the status that he had unintentionally achieved.

However, without anything else to do, the Vault Dweller simply continued to wander, crossing the deserts and wastelands of old America, heading for the East. As he went, he honed his skills past what he thought to be his limits. He helped many a people survive in the hell they found themselves in. It was from these years that the legend of the Grandfather to All comes. The legend goes that when one is in need, a man who looks not unlike a grandfather of many years would come and—against all odds—make the impossible seem arbitrary, in even the bleakest of moments. This is not an unfounded legend of course, as the Vault Dweller could very well be the grandfather of many of those in the wastes, had he been unfaithful to his late wife. For when he left Arroyo, the legendary man was already a very old man, and—though he was immortal—his appearance did not cease to age.

Most of the time nobody noticed his looks of course. It was his voice that told you he was old. Even behind the muffling of his worn and customized suit of Power Armor, one could tell without doubt that he was very old indeed. He had the kind of voice that could be both firm, but loving at the same time. He could very well be the kind grandfather one minute, and the admonishing drill sergeant the next, depending on what was going on. All in all, the Vault Dweller was a powerful, kind, brave, and selfless man. A man to be respected. And after many long years he had finally reached his goal.

A goal made up out of a need for reason, and later continued out of a nead for explanation. The Vault Dweller had a new mission, this time one he made for himself. That mission was simple, but at the same time not, it being to recover information of the Old World, and of what lead to the Great War that caused the Wastes to form. It was a mission that had only just begun as he stepped foot into the old state boundries of a long dead city.

The Vault Dweller had entered D.C.


	2. Chapter 1

Old Blood and A New Legend: Chapter 1

In a deserted, decayed clearing inhabited only by rotting park tables and dead trees, a man stepped over a stone fallen from a nearby rock formation. Senses honed by years of travel through hostile territory had made this man aware of something: he had just crossed a line. Not a line in a physical sense, but rather, a line into a new world.

This man was the Vault Dweller, long traveler of the Wastes, and new inhabitant of the D.C. ruins. Times would soon change in these new wastes, for things always do when a Legend is involved.

* * *

Across the area generally recognized as the 'Capital Wasteland' a young man stood inside a dark cavern, walking towards a small doorway with sunlight seeping through the many cracks and holes in its aged construction. Behind him he heard the unmistakable groan of tons of metal on metal, and whipped around to see the door to the only home he had ever known close shut behind him. He turned back to face the door with a heavy sigh; he could have been happy there. He'd had a loving girlfriend, a job to do, friends and people as close as family. But then, one day, the person he held most dear was gone, and he had no other choice but to follow after the one constant in his life. His Father.

Leaving home was not a choice made easily, nor one made voluntarily. Rather, it was a choice made for him, both by his father and by the insane dictator the Overseer turned out to be. His escape was a trial, as the man had grown up with those now ordered to apprehend him, and as such he made stealth and non-lethal knockouts his standard.

There was one exception to that rule, the officer who had violently interrogated his girlfriend, the daughter of the Overseer, Amata. He met a bloody end at the barrel of a 10mm pistol given by Amata to aid in his escape. After that, leaving was quick.

He had tried to take Amata with him, but she could not leave her home behind, could not find the conviction to do so. To be honest, he was struggling internally as well. Regardless of his mental conflict, with the door closed behind him and his father in the veritable wasteland ahead, he had no choice but to continue onwards.

With a final breath of the stale air of the cavern, the young man took the final step forward to the door, pushing it open, and stood in the now revealed midday sun.

* * *

D.C. was a dry place, the aged Vault Dweller decided. Not much rainfall at all, at least not in the days he'd been traveling it. That was not to say it was dead, far from it in fact. There was indeed still grass, and a sparse few trees with a bit of green on them. Better than most of the West Coast, at the very least.

People were still present in the D.C. area, as was to be expected. Where they came from he did not yet know, whether there were vaults scattered about people had left from, or if the populace were simply travelers remained to be seen. Either way, it was both good and bad that other people were present.

Good in that his journey wouldn't be entirely boring, and he would be able to trade for supplies. Bad in that his mission would take longer, and perhaps be more perilous as well; where there were people there were the nuisances known as raiders.

Moving from his thoughts of the people, the Vault Dweller decided to go over his mission in his mind. First and foremost was recovery of Old World information, anything at all that could help. To accomplish that, he'd have to find if any of the old capitol buildings were still intact, perhaps the Pentagon might still be standing? Secondary to his main goal was to do as he usually did and help the people he found. The Vault Dweller was a kind man, and the years he had traveled still could not harden his heart to those in need, making him an odd man out in the dog-eat-dog world of the Wastes.

With his goals properly appraised, the Vault Dweller adjusted his cloak, dusted off one of his pauldrons, and got back to walking. If there was one thing the man had learned how to do well in his long life, it was walk.

So began the Vault Dweller's foray into the Capitol Wasteland, to try and uncover the secrets of the Old World. To try and find what had happened to create the hell now lived in by all. And to make sure that those same mistakes were never repeated.

Because war never changes, but men do, through the roads they walk.

 **(;#''.,/)**

 **Author's Note: A big thanks to my friend Beeooow for doing some much needed proof-reading and editing for my horrid grammar.**


End file.
